Farewell, My Love
by Adamantwrites
Summary: After Marie's death, Ben returns to New Orleans, reluctantly taking a determined Adam along. Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All OC's and plots are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.


**Farewell, My Love**

"Pa, I'd like to go to New Orleans with you." Seventeen year old Adam stood, his arms folded across his chest, watching his father pack.

"No, Adam," Ben said, not even looking up, "I need you here to look after Hoss and Joe."

"If that's the reason," Adam said quietly, "then you should stay home to look after them-they're your sons."

Ben turned to face Adam. He had the strongest urge to slap the boy-and that was because Adam was right. Of all his sons, Adam was the only one who would dare to talk to him that way, the only one whose mind was always one step ahead of his.

"I know you said that you needed to get away, to see new people since Marie died but I don't think that this is the way." Adam spoke evenly, watching his father's nostrils flare with anger. Adam knew to tread lightly.

"First, it's not your place to say what you think and second, who gave you the right to call her Marie?"

Adam shifted his feet. "Pa, you probably don't even realize it but I never called her anything else. Usually I avoided calling her by any name; I never once called her "momma" as Hoss and Joe did."

Ben turned to his son, flushed with anger but Adam didn't flinch.

"You never had the proper respect for her as my wife and your mother. You were always hostile, always rude." Ben dismissed Adam with a flick of his wrist. "Get out."

But Adam didn't go. As much as Adam had resented Marie coming into their lives, as much as he had resented that his father married Jean DeMarigny's widow while delivering the news of his death to her and to Jean's mother in New Orleans, he also knew that his father loved Marie and that her unexpected, sudden death was hard for him to accept. Adam knew his father was heart-broken and although Adam wasn't experienced enough to quite understand what it was like to lose someone who was a sexual partner and fulfilled that aspect of life, he did know that his father's grief was boundless and that by visiting New Orleans, by walking the streets she had walked, by telling the news of her passing to those who loved her, he hoped he might find some succor.

"I'll go pack my bags." Adam turned and left for his room and Ben sat heavily on his bed; he didn't know what to do. But he did know that Adam would wear him down and if he didn't take Adam, now that he was almost considered legally an adult, he would follow him.

"No, Pa," Joe cried, clinging to his father's neck, "don't go 'way, Pa." Joe began to cry. He had lost his "chere mama" only a few months ago and now his father was leaving. Hoss stood silently, his hands pushed into his pants' pockets looking down as he ran the toe of one boot in circles in the dirt of the Virginia City street in front of the stage depot.

"Now, Joe," Ben said gently, stroking his son's curls, "I'll only be gone about two months. Hoss and Hop Sing are going to stay with you and Mrs. Shaughnessy promised she'd stop by and see that you and Hoss are all right." Ben picked up his youngest son and hugged him and then stood him in the street and Hop Sing took Joe's small hand in his.

Adam looked away. He didn't think his father should be leaving either but he had heard his father say to Joyce Edwards at Marie's funeral about his need to get away, his need to go somewhere and see new people. Adam felt that his father was trying to run away from his pain but Adam, who still carried the pain of Inger's death within him constantly, knew that it couldn't be done.

Ben walked over to eleven year old Hoss and bent down to be at his level. "You watch over your brother, okay?"

"Yeah, Pa, I will." Hoss said, still not looking at his father. "You won't be gone long, will you, Pa?" Hoss looked up at his father then, tears in his eyes.

"No, Hoss," Ben said, "I won't be gone long. I promise you that." And Ben and Adam boarded the coach for the start of the journey to New Orleans. They would catch the train in Kansas to Louisiana and then it was just a short coach ride to New Orleans. 

Adam immediately disliked New Orleans. He hated the humidity; he was constantly uncomfortable and damp; there was a heat that was so unlike the heat of Nevada-it was suffocating and heavy. He thought that the eerie gray-green Spanish moss hanging from the trees looked as if it was spreading a sick miasma in the air. Once he brushed up against a clump that had fallen from a tree and had landed on a wrought iron fence and he felt contaminated and couldn't wait to wash off the taint. There was also an odd smell from the walls of the hotel room; Adam didn't recognize the smell of mildew but it offended his nostrils.

When they had first arrived in New Orleans, Adam and Ben had passed by Madame DeMarigny's home on the way to the hotel.

"Stop here," Ben told the driver of their hackney. Ben told Adam to wait in the cab and he hurried to the front door of the home; the gates were open. He pulled the cord and heard the sound of the bell reverberate through the house. When a young woman came to the door, Ben asked if Madame DeMarigny was at home.

"Madame DeMarigny died about two years ago, sir."

"What?"

"She died. I believe it was her heart. I'm not certain but that was what I had heard. Mr. and Mrs. Fremont own the home now."

"They aren't relatives, are they?"

"Oh, no sir. They purchased the home when the estate was sold. That's all I know."

Ben thanked her and pensively walked back to the cab. He knew that Madame DeMarigny probably would not have grieved when told the news of Marie's death, may even have felt it was justice for her son's death, but he felt that she should know. Now it didn't matter. 

Ben left Adam in the hotel room while he went to see Edouard D'Arcy to inform him that his adored cousin had died but when he arrived, the gambling parlor had closed; boards barred the windows and the door. Ben was confused. He knew where D'Arcy lived so he made his way through the narrow streets, sweat rolling down his face, his shirt sticking to his back under his dress jacket.

Ben rang the bell at the gate and a man-servant came out to open it. Ben asked to see M. D'Arcy.

"M. D'Arcy is very ill. He does not see anyone."

"Please," Ben said. "I have news about his cousin, Marie DeVal. She was my wife. I am Ben Cartwright."

"I am sorry, monsieur, but M. D'Arcy is not well enough for any visitor."

"Would you just ask him if he'll see me? Please."

The man considered and then answered, "If you will wait out here in the jardin, I will ask." He bowed slightly and left Ben alone in the walled garden. Here were wrought iron benches and a small fountain that gurgled in an amusing manner and many odd flowers that had stalks of blooms shooting out from the middle with small spikes on the edges of their long, narrow, curved leaves; they looked otherworldly.

The man-servant came out and said that M. D'Arcy would see him but, the man warned him, "He is not well. Not well at all," and asked Ben to please keep the visit short.

Ben followed the man through the house; the drapes were drawn and the house had the smell of death. The man gestured for Ben to enter a room and Ben did and looked at the draped bed, one side partly drawn back. Ben walked closer and saw that it was D'Arcy lying there; he looked like a corpse. His eyes were sunken and his skin had a yellow tint. Ben knew that meant that his liver and kidneys were failing; D'Arcy was obviously close to death.

"D'Arcy," Ben said, moving closer. "it's me, Ben Cartwright. Do you remember me?"

D'Arcy turned his head, something that seemed to require much effort. "Ben? Cartwright? Ah, yes, the duelist." D'Arcy smiled at his small joke.

That D'Arcy still had the wit to make a small joke gave Ben reassurance that D'Arcy would understand what he had to say.

"I have bad news for you," Ben said. He steeled himself. "Marie, your cousin, Marie, my wife, she…she has died." Ben bowed his head.

"Ah, Marie, Marie. Where are you, ma chere? Marie, I did you wrong. Oh, my Marie, can you ever forgive me? Marie, Marie…." D'Arcy's eyes closed and he mumbled Marie's name again.

Ben knew that D'Arcy had gone away, was lost in his memories waiting for death to take him. Ben, holding his hat in his hand, slowly left the room and the man servant silently escorted him through the house, out the front door and out into the busy New Orleans street. When they returned to the hotel room, Ben told Adam that they were leaving the next day.

That night, Adam lay in the bed, only covered by a single, starched sheet. There was no breeze and the darkness hung over the city like a shroud.

"Pa?" Adam asked in the silence, looking up at the ceiling.

"What, Adam?"

"Why did you come back here to New Orleans?"

Ben sighed. "I thought that maybe by telling the people who loved Marie that she was gone… well, maybe we could comfort each other."

"I know you're sad, Pa. I guess sad is insulting in a way because I know it's more than that, but why couldn't you share it with us? We could help you?" Adam found it easier to talk to his father about feelings in the dark where they couldn't see each other's faces reflect their naked emotions.

"I know, Adam, but it's not the same. I hoped that maybe there would be something here of Marie, something of her left behind. But there isn't. There is nothing left of Marie."

Adam was silent for a moment. "There's something of Marie at the Ponderosa, at home."

"What do you mean?"

"There are the drapes she bought and the rugs. And the china she bought for us. Every time we look at it to eat or drink, that's a part of Marie; it reflects what she thought was beautiful. And then there's Joe." Adam's heart was pounding; he was afraid his father was angry.

A silence fell in the hot, damp room. Adam listened to the clock on the mantle tick away the seconds of their lives.

"Adam?" Ben said.

"Yes, Pa?" Adam waited.

"Thank you. Thank you, son, for coming with me."

"You're welcome, Pa."

"Adam?"

"Yes?"

"I thank God for you."

Adam blushed; he was thankful for the darkness because it was the darkness that allowed him to say what he really felt.

"I think God put us together, Pa, for a reason. You, me, Hoss, Joe and Hop Sing, He put us together as family to help each other. At least that's what I believe."

"You may be right, Adam. You may be right."

And the silence fell again, heavy and deep, and Adam closed his eyes. Tomorrow they would be going home.

~Finis~


End file.
